You Don't Have to Speak
by everybreatheverymove
Summary: It's the diamond ring on her finger that catches his attention. Maybe he's had a few too many to drink, but the idea of her marrying somebody else shocks him because he tells himself that she's his, that she belongs to him.


**Yay, another Japril fic.. Okay, it's only a - but hopefully the finale ends with something like this. I think it would've been longer but it's late and I have like no energy, so here you are.. enjoy! :)**

* * *

He's on his fourth glass of scotch when finally he remembers what she'd told him.

One last chance, stand her up once more and they're done.

He told himself at the time that he wouldn't forget, that he would remember because he was having a shit day and he'd need her for comfort. For sex, really.

Stephanie had been pretty clear with him._ I'm sick of being treated like a fangirl. You either treat me right or we're finished. _Maybe she'd been a little bit whiny, a little too clingy over the past few months, but he'd never really thought of her as a fangirl. Sure, she'd fawned over him for his name and appearance but maybe he was missing something. Maybe she actually liked him for himself, for his personality. And maybe he'd just royally fucked that up.

Shit.

He likes to think that she'll stick around for a while, that she'll keep his sheets company.

That's really all her needs her for. He doesn't love her, and he knows that he never will, so it's selfish of him to keep hanging onto her when she could meet someone who's actually interested in something other than the sex she repeatedly offers him.

He only needs to her to occupy him, to keep him busy so his mind doesn't wander off into crazy-girl territory. The more time he spends with her, the more he sees of her, the less time he spends thinking of the redhead who crushed his heart to pieces and ruined him.

Because he can't. He can't think of her, of her face, of her hair, of her mouth because if he does he knows he's only setting himself up for disaster. He can't think about her because she's moved on. He can't think about her anymore because she's no longer thinking of him.

He slightly shudders at the thought of her with _him_, with that fucking paramedic who has the personality of a melon. He doesn't get what she sees in the guy. What, because he waited for marriage? What, because he's awkward and bashful and the same adorable that she is? Or is it because he can actually give her everything she's ever wanted?

He shouldn't be thinking about them, he tells himself with a quick sip of his drink.

Okay, so he's farely drunk, but a little alcohol never did anybody any damage, right? The doctor in him is telling him otherwise, but the torn and stressed guy inside is telling him to get shit-faced and fuck everything up. And, up to know, the torn and stressed guy is winning the battle.

So, he downs another shot of scotch and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

When did his life become so complicated?

He remembers when he was younger. High school had been amazing because everybody had done everything for him and he hadn't need to do much persuading for anything. College was fun because he got any woman he wanted, literally. Then, med school happened and he wised up. He'd realised that there was more to life than sleeping around with pretty girls and throwing parties every night, so he'd gone to med school to prove his family, and himself, wrong.

Throughout his intern year, he'd spent the first few weeks goofing around until he made friends with a petite brunette who told him to grow up and stop being a douche. He hadn't listened at first, of course, but over the course of the next year, he'd taken her words into account and followed her lead. And then, their other friends had died in a terrible shooting at the end of their third year and from then on, it was only the two of them. _Me and you._

Of course, time (and the countless times they'd had sex) had fucked everything up. Now that petite brunette was a petite redhead, and now that girl, the one that he'd told himself was the only person he could never fall for, was the only thing he could think about.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

He closes his eyes for a brief second and fakes a smile, turning himself around on the bar stool.

She does not look happy, he points out, taking in the intern's pissed off expression.

"You said nine o'clock. Then, you said that you couldn't make it because you had a ton of paperwork. Now, what? Did you forgot again?!" She places her hands on her hips and flicks her bushy hair behind her back with a huff.

He shakes his head and frowns, "No, I didn't-"

Stephanie cuts him off, holding up a finger and pouting her lips, "No, you know what? I'm done. I get it, okay? This was never a serious thing, but it's nice to be treated like a lady every once in a while. So, when I say I want to meet up for drinks and a conversation, I expect you to show up. It's one in the freaking morning, and I'm not some idiot who's going to wait around forever."

Jackson groans, slowly feeling himself giving up. She's right, he knows. And if she's going to end this, their 'thing', he's not going to stop her.

"I'm an intern, I should be learning things, not jumping into bed with you whenever you ask me to. I'm not an idiot, I know you're in charge now and your relationships have to come second, but I'm coming third."

"How are you coming third?"

She rolls her eyes, "Because second place has already been filled. And she's not going away any time soon."

She's right, he knows. And she's definitely not an idiot. Because, even though he's tried hard not to show it, it wouldn't take a fucking moron to realise he was in love with his best friend.

He blinks a few times and notices the blank look on her face, trying to find the right words to say, "How did you-"

"It's the way you look at her." She folds her arms over her chest and shrugs, "You didn't ever-" She stops herself and looks over at him, "And you said her name once."

His eyes widen and his mouth opens a gap, "I'm really sorry-"

"It's cool, really. Can't say I didn't see this coming, especially when you ignored me for eleven days, but whatever, I'll let it go. Besides, you guys are clearly meant-"

".. to be." He finishes for her, nodding his head, the liquor rising. He feels the sudden regret of drinking a bit much and squints.

The young woman stands still for a second, before the man entering the bar catches her attention, "I'll see you around, Dr. Avery." She tells him, patting him on the shoulder with a slight grin before calling out to her friend, "Shane!"

Jackson sighs, letting his head drop into his hands, his elbows resting on the bar.

"Shit."

What's he supposed to do now? Go to her house and tell her everything, confess his feelings? What if _he_'s there? What if-

He's never been good at handling rejection.

But they say that alcohol gives you the courage to do what you'd never have the balls to do otherwise, so it couldn't hurt, right?

* * *

The doorbell's rang about three times by the time she answers it.

The shiny object on her finger has distracted her for the last thirty minutes and someone ringing at her door snaps her back to reality.

She brushes a hand over her hair and grasps the back of her neck as she softly pulls the door open.

"Hey."

April frowns, smelling the scotch pouring from his breath. "Hi." left hand stays on her neck as her right leans against the wall, waiting for him to start talking.

She wonders what he came over for when he doesn't speak. He stares down at the wet ground for a few seconds before swallowing a breath and looking over at her.

"I uh- I-"

He doesn't even know where to start, he doesn't know what to say. He remembers Sloan telling him that when the moment came, he'd have to conquer his fears and just come out with it, no matter how scared he was. But he never imagined he's be this terrified.

He's terrified because he doesn't know what she's going to say. He's terrified because he thinks that if she rejects him he might actually break.

On her end, she waits patiently for him to speak. She has her own things to worry about, as selfish as it sounds, so she doesn't want to hear about his intern problems. She really doesn't want to know anything about his relationship with the younger doctor, she doesn't want to hear about their relationship, or lack thereof.

She opens the door wider and, after a small moment of hesitation, he steps inside. She closes the door behind him and walks to stand at his front, a few steps away from his body.

The silence becomes too much for her and she lets slip the one thing she didn't want to say to him.

"Matthew asked me to marry him."

She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

She catches the slight pain on his face as he just stares at her, his green eyes boring into hers. Why was she telling him this? To hurt him? To break him?

He blinks a few times again and she uncomfortably crosses her arms over her chest.

She shouldn't have said anything, she knows it. But maybe her subconscious let the words slip because, deep down, she needs him to say something, wants him to tell her something.

Maybe her subconscious won't let her say _yes_ to the other man's proposal until she knows if she's lost him forever.

Jackson watches her body fidget, his eyes catching the ring on her left hand, "You said yes?"

He seems stunned and slightly angered, the small diamond holding his gaze.

She clears her throat and shrugs, "I haven't- He just- He gave me the ring until I decide if- I haven't answered yet."

He looks like he's going to collapse to the ground and break into two pieces, and she wonders why until she recalls the time that he had proposed to her. They'd been so giddy and happy, and she thinks that's why he looks so pained by her news.

But she doesn't understand why.

The only things that rack through his mind are all the possible answers she could give him.

She'd have no reason to say no. She was practically in love with the guy and he was perfect for her , maybe even too much.

Matthew didn't propose because he thought she was pregnant, and he actually had a ring. That's what all girls want, right? A beautiful proposal with dinner and a ring? A sparkly and glittery diamond to show off to everyone?

A diamond to remind him that his own proposal only consisted of him reassuring her if she was pregnant with his kid, he would marry her. How romantic, he thinks. No wonder she said it was a blessing when she wasn't pregnant and they didn't have to go through with his crappy idea of a wedding.

What a fool he was to think that she might actually choose him in the long run.

He can't compete. There's no way in hell. Matthew has everything. He's got the whole package. He's all cute and shiny. He doesn't have any daddy issues. His mom's not some crazy lunatic with no boundaries. His family doesn't watch his every move and criticize him if he fucks up. Oh, who's he kidding.. Matthew never fucks up.

He can't compete.

And, maybe it's all the alcohol getting to his system, but he feels like he stills wants to put up a fight.

He can't compete, but he can still run.

"What are you going to say?"

She bites her lip and stares up at him. She feels her face burn under his gaze but she can't find it in herself to turn away, to look away from him. And she's always going to be drawn to him because he keeps pulling her back in.

"I-"

He steps closer to her, reaching out to grasp her waist and she takes a step behind, backing away from him. She can smell the alcohol on his breath and scratches her neck nervously. She knows what he's like when he's drunk. It's extremely hot until he gets kind of angry when he doesn't get his way.

"Stop moving away from me." He tells her.

Jackson makes another move toward her and she finds her back collide with a wall as she steps back.

She glances down between them, noticing the small distance and lifts her hands to toy with the metal band of the ring. He watches her spin the object around her finger, her eyes captivated by its sparkle.

"Don't say yes."

April turns her attention up to him and raises an eyebrow, "Why not?" She asks him quietly, hoping for those three words. He's never exactly been clear with her about his feelings but if he says it, if he tells her that he feels that way, that he wants her, then she'll drop everything.

He moves closer to her, his hands resting on either side of her head against the wall. "Because you're mine."

She gulps and bites her lip and he peers down at her, his eyes flickering between his eyes and her lips. He cups the side of her face with his hand and she tries to fight the smell of alcohol coming out of his lips. "You're drunk."

He shakes his head like a child, "No, no I am- I'm not." He nods to himself and rests his forehead against hers.

She takes the ring from her finger and grasps it in her hand. "You're drunk." She rests her hands against his chest and frowns.

He ignores her repeated comment and leans down, pressing his lips to her collarbone. She lets her head fall back against the wall and fidgets against him when he kisses up her neck to behind her ear. Her hands push against him, trying to fight him off. Instead of backing away, he rests his hands on her hips and holds her in place. "You're mine." He growls in her ear as he pushes her hair back and she shivers against him, her eyes closing.

He pushes himself against her and smirks when she moans out. "D'you do that for him?" He quips, sliding his hands down her body. She backs herself up properly and lets him do whatever he wants. She doesn't want to be this person, a cheater. But when her lover feels this good, she really doesn't care what her Church thinks is right or wrong.

Her hands drop open and her boyfriend's engagement ring tumbles to the floor, but she doesn't pay much attention to it. Instead, she focuses on the hands that are slowly creeping down to her jeans and undoing the button. She watches his face when he slides the zipper down and speaks, "You belong to me."

"Say it." Her hands push his shoulders away from her but he barely moves an inch.

He grabs her arms and holds her firmly, "You're mine."

She bites her lip and slides her hands to the sleeves of his jacket. "Not anymore." He slowly takes it off and waits for her to rest her hands on the edges of his t-shirt. "I can't play this game anymore, okay? I know I'm putting you in a tough position and you might not feel that way, but I can't do this if you don't. Because I do. I do feel that way but I can't be the first to say it because I'm scared."

He doesn't tell her that he's scared as well. Hell, he's fucking petrified, but he won't tell her that. He's got to do this, he promised Sloan that he'd have the balls to do it. And, sure, maybe the alcohol's helping his courage, but it doesn't change the way he feels.

Jackson peeks down at her; her eyes are closed as though she's going to cry and her red hair's tumbling over her face.

_If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing, even if you're scared that it'll cause problems, even if you're scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it and you say it loud._

"I love you."

Her face suddenly lights up as she stares at him. He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and cradles her face between his hands. She bites her lip and allows her head to lean on the wall.

"I love you, too."

"Yeah?" He asks, a teasing grin on his lips.

She stands up straight against him, pulling up the edges of his top and he shrugs it off. He leans down to kiss her, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes."

His fingers toy with her jeans again and she slips out of them, leaving them on the floor, followed by her blouse. He picks up the backs of her knees and she wraps her legs around his waist as he pushes into her body again. "You're mine." He groans.

She nods her head as she slowly kisses down his chest, "Only yours."


End file.
